The Subtle Beauty (17 page)

The gryphon resumed circling her, burning a path into the ground. His head dropped; an eye remained trained on Glory. Glory watched him warily.

“
Gcroí agus Inní
11
,” he muttered under his breath. “I am sorry. Allow me to make it up to you.”

“How do you intend to do that?”

“You will join me for dinner.”

Glory grimaced. “I would prefer to dine alone.”

The gryphon’s feathers ruffled.

“After your little gifts these last several mornings, I am afraid seeing you while I eat would upset my appetite.”

The gryphon’s ears flattened, and he growled. His wings spread, casting an ominous shadow. He looked over his shoulder at Glory and leapt into the air wordlessly.

A large, long table was heavily laden with enough sumptuous food to feed the household. Roast game, carefully decorated for presentation, with succulent root vegetables, exotic fruit, and vintage ale all graced the table on silver platters, glowing with temptation in candles’ light.

A servant seated Glory and presented her with endless choices. She chose her favorites of fruit, fine cheese, and fresh bread that was still warm from the hearth. For good measure, she drank in a goblet of mead. It was strong and tasted of fermented apples with a hint of ironberry. She let it linger on her palate before swallowing. The burn down the back of her throat was mild and warming. The cheese she sampled was sharp, with notes of hazlethorn—an almost nutty, buttery taste. Glory smiled. Food had not been this enjoyable for her in a very long time. Her shoulders relaxed, and she sank in her chair, resting her head against the high back.

“I am glad to see you finally eat something.”

Glory’s muscles tightened, and she sat up, carefully chewing her food before swallowing and washing it down with a sip of mead. She put the goblet down. “I asked to dine alone, Gryphon.”

“I know. I am sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

“I was lonely. I am sorry if I have been harsh with you. When I was very young, I learned the difficult lesson that one does not stay out after dark in this kingdom. I had escaped my nest. Xander found me outside of the keep, deeply wounded. He nursed me back to health. I prefer to be outside, but it is simply too dangerous at night. I did not think you would mind if I sat where you cannot see me.” His voice was coming from behind a pillar in the shadows.

Glory pushed her plate away. “I do mind. Having someone watch you eat is not pleasant.”

“I do not need to watch, Princess. I am content to share the room with you.”

Glory drank more of the mead and leaned back in the chair.

“Do you like it?” the gryphon asked. “It is called Woodmead. The Fox And Wolf Inn at Council’s Realm retains a special reserve for us.”

Glory did not answer. She picked at her food instead. The room grew very quiet. A Celtic harp began to play. Glory gave in to the melody, her body relaxing again. Maybe the gryphon had left her. She felt her appetite returning. After a few bites, she gave a nod to whoever was harping. “You play beautifully.”

“Thank you,” the gryphon replied.

Glory’s eyes widened. “
You
play?”

“Yes.”

Glory leaned against the table, resting her head in her hand. The song continued. The notes floated through the air like summer cotton. The ebb and flow was like the tide, washing its way through time and space. When it was over, Glory found herself smiling. “Well done, harper. Well done.”

“Would you hear another, Princess?”

Glory drank more mead. “Please.”

A melodic tune carried across the air. She recognized it. The gryphon lifted his voice in a haunting, lyrical, wordless harmony. Glory closed her eyes. She had heard it before so many times, that song of longing and disappointment. A tear slipped from one of her eyes and wound down her cheek. All of these nights, the gryphon had been singing for her. How could she not have realized it? He knew the song of her heart.

The music came to a halt, and the last chords carried through the hall.

“What is that song?” Glory felt compelled to know it by its name.

“It is nameless. It is a curse. It is merely what fills my heart. If I did not let it out, I fear I should die from the agony.”

“Tell me your name.”

There was a silence.

“Please, Gryphon,” Glory implored, “I wish to know the name of my harper this night.”

He strummed quietly and thoughtfully, as if trying to remember a long-forgotten song.

“Surely you must be called by something other than Gryphon,” Glory urged. “Shall I give you a name?”

“If you wish.”

“You are both harper and scholar. Is there a name in your language for a bard’s soul?”

The gryphon picked out a few shy, awkward notes on his harp.

Glory pushed back her chair. “Well, then, I suppose you shall remain Gryphon to me.”

She adjourned to her room and leaned against one of her bedposts. She could not bear the silence. She felt so tired. Gradually she became aware of music. Her heart raced, and she hurried to the window. She looked down. Colin was playing a pan pipe. Glory opened the window. “What are you doing here? It’s dangerous here after dark.”

Colin sighed. “You have been behaving oddly, Glory. First you are less than thrilled to see me, and my serenade does nothing to impress you. Where is your mind?”

Glory was silent.

Colin sighed. “Do you think you could come with me to the inn down the road?”

“It’s not that easy. I’ve tried leaving this place before, but I always wind up back here. I am sure it is a curse.”

Colin’s shoulders slumped, and he kicked the ground.

Glory grunted. “I will try again. Run along ahead of me.”

Glory glanced over her shoulder to ensure she was not being followed down the dirt road that led from Blackthorn. When she turned back around, the gryphon was suddenly standing before her. Glory jumped with a yelp.

“What are you doing, Glory?” the gryphon’s tail twitched.

“Leaving.” Glory pushed by him, continuing on. The gryphon strode beside her.

“Did I not warn you that going out after sundown was dangerous?”

Glory stuck her nose in the air defiantly.

“You are very—”

“Do not even say it, beast.”

The gryphon pinned his ears. “You are
unwise
to ignore my counsel.”

“What could possibly happen? It is not as though the unicorns are bloodthirsty.” Glory was not so sure. Sea serpents in the water, gryphons in the castle, strange women that glowed and floated around. “Are they?”

The gryphon stopped. “We are on the hunting grounds of the barghest chieftan, thanks to you.”

Glory rolled her eyes. “There’s no such thing as a…” Reflective, green eyes flashed between the trees ahead. They blinked, then started growing larger. In the moonlight, Glory could make out the grizzled form of a large creature prowling closer to them. The gryphon stepped beside Glory, the fur on his spine bristling.

“What is that?” Glory’s voice trembled.

“Barghest.”

More eyes blinked from between the trees and took form on top of long snouts.  They drew closer.  Glory’s breath caught as bear-like, hunchback wolf monsters bolted toward them.

The gryphon charged at them, commanding, “Run, Glory!”

For a moment, Glory was unable to pry her eyes away from the oncoming creature. Moonlight glinted from its hungry fangs. Glory’s breath caught in her throat again. Her feet beat the ground.

She pounded the earth as hard as she could. As she glanced over her shoulder, she saw two barghest leap upon the gryphon. They bayed and snarled wildly. Another galloped after Glory. She could barely muster a scream. She felt as though her heart would hammer its way out of her chest. She struggled for breath. Up ahead she saw a broken, dead silver-birch branch, hanging limply from its trunk. She raced toward it and grabbed it, whipping around to brandish it at the barghest. As she spun around, her skirts snagged upon bramble and brought her to her knees. She swung blindly. The barghest slowed and growled.

“Leave me alone!” Glory cried.

The barghest lunged at her. Glory held the branch before her with enough strength to bar the beast from her face. The barghest’s breath reeked worse than the gryphon’s. Saliva slung from its mouth. Glory gave a cry as its gruesome teeth gnashed at her. She tried to pull her knees close enough to launch a powerful kick to the beast’s gut. Her arms trembled with fatigue. Suddenly the barghest leapt off her.

Glory lay on the ground, shaking. A long howl echoed over the trees. She sat up to see the barghest glare at her, howl back, and then retreat to the pack.

Glory fell back against the cool earth in relief. She dropped the branch and stared up at the full moon. A few scratches here and there stung her, but she was grateful to be alive. Carefully, she untangled her dress from the bramble and rose to dust herself off. She knew she should get moving again, lest the barghest return.

Faster than before, she took off through the woods. Beads of icy sweat formed at her temples, and the breath in her lungs stung. The sound of her skirts rustled like the rapid beat of owl wings. She picked them up with a small cry of frustration, freeing her feet to race faster. Slowly, her thoughts came back to her. The night became clearer, the trees blurred less. Suddenly, Glory gasped, “Gryphon.”

She grabbed the trunk of a tree to help stop herself. The forest swirled around. Glory hugged the gray trunk and gazed up at the moon. She caught her breath, taking in her surroundings. What was stopping her? This was her one true chance to escape the very bane of her existence. She already had a great head start. Glory squared her shoulders and continued on her way. She was free, at last! A pang in her chest stopped her in her tracks. “He could be hurt.”

Glory’s hand went to her heart. She swallowed. She touched her forehead to make sure the sweat on her brow was not some fever that had driven her mad. She checked her scratches and saw no swelling or infection from rabid barghest. Why did she suddenly care about the gryphon? She loathed him… didn’t she?

“He saved my life.”

Glory looked over her shoulder. Her throat tightened.

Before it could even register, she dashed back the way she had come. No worldly obstacle could seem to impede her. When she finally reached the clearing where she had last seen the gryphon, three barghest were making their last stand against him. Glory’s eyes flashed as the gryphon fell to the ground with a groan. Glory picked up a stone and hurled it as hard as she could at the barghest.

“Leave him alone!”

Without thought to herself, she picked up another rock and flung it hard, nailing one of the barghest square in the shoulder. It cried out and the other turned. Glory clocked him between the eyes with a sharp-edged stone. The barghest dropped to the ground, and the one with a wounded shoulder took off into the woods. Before the last one, who was intently guarding the gryphon’s weakened body, could realize what was happening, Glory lifted the largest stone she could find and dropped it on its neck.

“I said ‘Leave him alone’,” Glory growled.

“Glory—” the gryphon whispered.

Glory stepped to his side and knelt beside him. His wing lay twisted on the ground. Blood oozed from his withers.

Glory covered her mouth. “This is my fault.”

The gryphon’s breath was shallow. “Get … please get Xander.”

Glory leapt to her feet and took off toward Blackthorn.

Torchlight danced along the stone wall. Glory pressed her back against the stones just outside of the chamber where the gryphon was being tended. She heard muffled voices and winced as the gryphon roared in pain.

“Where is she? Where’s Glory?”

“Calm down, you lummox. It cannot hurt that badly.”

The gryphon’s breaths were quick and labored. “Is she safe? Please, Xander, tell me she’s safe. Glory!”

“She’s fine. Hold still.”

The gryphon screeched. “That stings! Glory?”

Glory dug her fingers into the mortar.

“Glory! Why will she not come to me, Xander? I want to see her. Glory!”

“Stop thrashing about, you infernal beast. She does not wish to see you.”

Glory swallowed hard and sank to the ground.

“She could have left me for dead, but she came back. She loves me.”

“Stop it,” Xander admonished. “You’re being overdramatic.”

“She must. She must! She came back for me. I nearly died. Glory!”

Glory choked as tears slipped down her cheeks. She buried her face in her hands upon her lap.

The room behind her quieted with time. She dashed her tears away when the door creaked open. Xander emerged and towered over her.

“He’s feverish, but he’s resting now. I think you should go to him.”